Dulce et Decorum
by Melidell
Summary: The Archdemon gazed at me with its sharp and intelligent eyes as it watched my life-blood colour the cold stone battlefield. "Dulce et decorum," I recited as I closed my eyes, "est pro patria mori." A girl finds herself thrown into the world of Thedas, and into the hands of the infamous Witch of the Wilds and her daughter. As she grows up... !FULL SUMMARY INSIDE! Eventual Zevran/OC
1. Forever Young

**DULCE ET DECORUM**

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The Archdemon gazed at me with its sharp and intelligent eyes as it watched my life-blood colour the cold stone battlefield. "Dulce et decorum," I recited, smiling as I closed my eyes, "est pro patria mori."

A girl finds herself thrown into the world of Thedas, and into the hands of the infamous Witch of the Wilds and her daughter. As she grows up in a body that isn't hers, she can't help but ask the question no one wants to answer; why was she brought there?

AU. Eventual Zevran/OC.

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**Welcome! So, this is a try at another girl-thrown-into-Thedas with a twist! The other is still ongoing, called 'Learning How to Fly', and the response has been fantastic! So before LHTF, there was a random little chapter that started this story, still in-complete but with potential. A year later I visited my folder of the-ones-that-didn't-make-it, and bought it to life! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don't expect anything you've already seen or read before, that is not my goal. Rowan is going to be a complex character to write, but you'll have to wait in order to find out more!**

**I do not own anything you recognize.  
**

**PS: If you haven't played the game. . . well yea I totally own this.**

**PSS: The above statement is a lie, please do not sue me.**

**PSSS: If you don't sue me, you get a cookie.**

**The cover ****is a downloadable wallpaper and when I saw it I knew it was exactly what Rowan looks like. Not sure if because it's a public wallpaper I'm allowed to use it, but please tell me if I can't.**

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**Chapter One: Forever Young**

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_Peace._

_It was something you could find in only the most hidden and discreet places, away from the bustle of the city and the relentless beams from the hot summer sun. Places like those are rare and beautiful, making ordinary acts seem magical. You could forget everything for a while and simply be, no responsibilities lying heavy on your shoulders. As illogical as it seems, you could forget everything about your life and for a moment, just one little moment, the impossible could become possible._

_Laughter filled the small clearing as a young woman ran into it, her bare feet pounding against the ground as she looked over her shoulder, her mouth pulled into a large grin. Stopping for a moment, she hung her head and rested her hands on her knees, still chuckling between her gasps for air. Behind her the bushes rustled suddenly as a man burst from them and gently tackled the woman to the ground, causing her to shriek in surprise. They rolled among the small flowers and overgrown grass, the woman giggling as the man tickled her, his fingers finding her weak spots with ease. Finally they came to a stop, the man holding himself above her with his hands placed firmly on the ground. Lowering himself slowly, the man placed a small chaste kiss on the woman's forehead, causing her to blush, her cheeks going slightly pink._

"_You know," he whispered softly in her ear, his breath tickling her skin, "I think I love you."_

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

I gritted my teeth - an unlit cigarette hanging dangerously close to falling between them - before slamming my foot on the brake, swerving around the corner as the air was filled with the smell of burning tyres. Then I shot forward, my eyes focused on the stretch of track that lay in front of me. I was gaining speed, going faster than I had previously dared. Whether the reason was because of the half full bottle of vodka that lay abandoned on my lap, or the haze of red that clouded my vision, I didn't know. Perhaps it was both. My hands flew across the controls of the race car automatically, years of practice did that to you, and I took the next corner as easily as the last.

It was too much too soon, the 'whys' and 'what ifs' filling my thoughts. The scenery flew by, nothing but me and the road as my rage grew.

"_I think I love you."_

"That cheating, lying, son-of-a-bitch!" I shrieked angrily, my knuckles turning white as they gripped on the wheel.

I had trusted him, trusted him with all of my being and with one picture burned into my mind everything had fallen apart. Him lying underneath _her, _as she swayed and moaned his name in ecstasy. Him pleading for forgiveness, and my absolute favourite, him telling me that it was my fault. That he was a man with needs that I refused to satisfy.

"Well fuck me for wanting to wait," I spat at no one, as it was only me in the car. Alone.

I took the next corner recklessly, barely managing to stay on the track. Grabbing the lighter, I expertly lit my cigarette and held it between my fingers before grasping the bottle between my thighs and flicking off the lid. Using one hand to steer and one to hold the bottle and the now burning cigarette in the air, I started to speak, "This is for all of those stupid bitches who could never say no to a pretty face and sweet words; this is for all of those stupid bitches who couldn't see through the lies."

I took a quick drag of the toxic smoke before tipping the bottle into my mouth as the burning liquid poured down my throat, throwing my mind into a sharp focus before it blurred into a deliciously fuzzy haze. It was enough time to note that the next corner was coming up, faster than normal, and that there was no time for me to take it. I desperately tried to twist the wheel, discarding the bottle as it crashed to the floor, spilling vodka across my feet and lap; the cigarette went flying and landed on the dash, the soft light of the flame flickering as the ashes fell.

_No! I'm not ready to die yet! Oh God, no!_

The car skidded sideways off the track as I screamed, horrified at my stupidity. Hitting a bump in the grass, it flipped into the air and started to spin. I was thrown around like a rag doll as I felt something crack and my vision went black for a moment, my head hitting the rood of the car before slamming down on the dashboard. The car hit the ground with a loud crash on its side, the impact crushing it slightly. Glass shattered and my screams grew louder as the tiny shards burst onto my face, my helmet lying forgotten on the stands. Finally sliding to a halt, the car fell down, its tyres spinning uselessly in the air. My screams turned into sobs as I tried to move, only to find out that my leg had been trapped underneath the seat, twisted into a grotesque and impossible angle. Everywhere I looked blood was splattered, little red drops reminding me of my mortality. At that moment the adrenaline faded as the pain hit me, causing me to realise what had happened and how badly I was hurt. My leg had definitely been broken, if not crushed and completely useless. My nose had also snapped, blood trickling down my lips. As I rose my hand to feel the damage, I realised my entire face had been impaled with minuscule pieces of glass. A large gash to my forehead bled copious amounts of blood as nausea set in. Tears fell down my cheeks, the salty sting of them providing hope as I gasped for air, my chest expanding greedily for the oxygen that I could still breath in.

_I'm alive? Oh God, thank you! I'm alive!_

The smell of burning filled my senses, but it wasn't only of rubber tyres. "No," I panted, turning my head towards the source. Small flames had grown along the front of the car and were brazenly growing bigger.

"No!" I cried out hysterically. "No, please no! Somebody help me!"

_Alcohol is highly flammable, and you're covered in it. Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

I moaned and cursed as the fire grew closer and closer; and I could do nothing except watch it. My leg wouldn't move, no matter how much I had tried to pry it out, and it was the dizzying pain that had prevented me from touching it any further.

"Get me out of here!" I shrieked, trying desperately to swat at the incoming fire.

But I was alone, and no one would hear my screams. Mercifully, my eyesight dimmed as the closest flames licked my legs and I faded away from the scene, my eyesight going black.

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

I woke up to the smell of burning wood, something familiar and unexpected. Deciding that the small room I had woken up to was definitely not a hospital, I rose and placed my feet upon the cold stone ground. I was dead, truly and irreversibly dead. My vision felt slightly blurred, as though I had been sleeping for a very long time. Taking a deep breath to calm my sudden nerves and trying to ignore the feeling of _wrongness_ that had overtaken my body, I stood up. Swaying slightly but still confident, I took a tentative step towards the door. Perhaps this was heaven, perhaps it was hell, either way I didn't want to wait any longer to find out.

'_Face the future, head held high, my love. Don't make the mistake of forgetting the past, but start on the road to accepting it.'_

The words comforted me; it had been something my mother had once told me. Walking felt strange, foreign. In fact every movement was an effort, requiring me to mentally command my limbs into action. I spotted a bookshelf, groaning with leather bound pages. Open books lay on the floor depicting symbols and writing in a language that was unfamiliar. A fire crackled, shedding warmth and light over the room and there were two large chests. Animal skins provided a break from the cold stone. It looked like a strange, but slightly normal, cottage, albeit the larger furniture. I stretched my arm out towards the knob on the old wooden door, only to gasp in surprise at the small hand and tiny fingers that were attached to my arm. My eyes travelled along my arms to my stomach, then lowering to my legs and finally resting on my feet. Everything was small, delicate and childlike. And I had no womanly features at all to show my age. Backing away from the door, I looked around the small room for a mirror, anything that would show my reflection, but there was nothing. Around the back of the room, a place that was previously not visible, two barrels held up a wooden plank to make a table. A table adorned with the bones of animals and . . ._ was that a_ _human skull?_

_Hell,_ I decided quickly, my eyes darting around the room, looking for a place to hide, _definitely hell._

The door creaked open, causing me to spin around in surprise and fear. A slender silhouette of a figure stood in front of the daylight pouring through the entrance, its face invisible as my eyes tried to adjust.

"I see you have awoken, I shall fetch mother." The voice was smooth and feminine, portrayed in such a way that it demanded attention even though she had not shouted. The figure disappeared as quickly as she had come, leaving the door open behind her. The urge to dive under the bed was overwhelming, as though I was in danger from the people that lived in the small hut; in danger from the girl and her mother. It was a natural instinct that made no sense to me, but to the body I was in.

_This isn't my body._

The thought sickened me to no end, what had happened to the body's previous owner did not seem like anything natural. And if I was here, where was the child?

Unhurried footsteps came from outside, the sounds of a soft conversation filtering through the open door.

"How is she?" an elder voice questioned.

"Awake, mother," responded the younger girl from the doorway.

"Don't be insolent girl," the elder voice spat. "I mean does she look like a child? Are there any deformities from the possession?"

"None at all, mother. It seems that the spirit has chosen to remain in its given form. 'Tis quite a change from the . . . previous attempt."

A mature woman that couldn't be anything younger than fifty appeared in the doorway, she stood silent for a moment before a soft chuckle came from her mouth.

"Mother?"

"Look at her, she's _perfect!_" the woman laughed, entering the small room with a gracefulness that wasn't human.

I shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the courage to tear away my eyes from the beautiful woman. Her dark black hair was sprinkled with grey, while her sharp golden eyes studied me critically. But despite the signs of age, there was no reservation that she had once been perhaps the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. As if called on by my thoughts, the girl entered the room. There was no doubt on their relationship, it was as though the woman had made a copy of herself and raised it as her child. The girl had the same striking dark hair tone and eye colour, and if it wasn't enough, they both wore the exact same expression of calculated interest.

"Hel-llo? I spoke shakily, my voice at a childish pitch. I didn't even need a mirror. My voice belonged to a child along the age of nine or ten, a child with big doe eyes and rosy cheeks, a child that was no doubt the pride and joy of her parents. A child that had disappeared and left its body behind.

If possible, the look in the woman's eyes turned predatory as she smiled toothily, reminding me of a feral wolf about to take down its prey.

"Are you happy, mother?" the girl sighed. "A suitable replacement, surely?"

"We shall see," the women cackled insanely.

Suddenly, she wasn't that beautiful anymore.

"Excuse me?" I inquired timidly. "Where has the child gone? _Who_ are you? And just what exactly have you done to me?"

The girl smiled grimly before stalking up to me and placing her hands on my shoulders.

"_You_," she hissed, "are going to listen carefully, because I am only going to explain this once."

I nodded, terrified by the girl who towered over me and glared, lightning crackling in her eyes.

"The child is _you. I_ am your sister. _She_," the girl motioned towards the woman, "is your mother. Got it?"

I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes opened wide as she spoke words that made no sense, were impossible and highly unlikely. My mother lived in a small town just outside Calgary, Canada, with my step-dad and their kid, my half-brother, Jeremy. I didn't have a sister, last time I checked, and I sure as hell didn't think my entire life had been a dream and I was only just waking up. But there was no way I was risking telling her this, so I simply nodded again.

"We have not done anything to you. You simply fell sick for a very long time and have only just recovered. We live alone, away from the towns and villages filled with people and Templars - who we hate."

She let go of my shoulders, but not before staring into my eyes coldly for a moment and shaking me slightly, asking deadly quietly, "Do you understand?"

'_No!'_ I wanted to scream, but self-preservation was one of my fine qualities - despite my previous dim-witted lack of judgement on the race track – and I mumbled something that sounded almost like a '_yes_' but was more of a squeak.

She smiled the same predatory smile as her mother and walked off to the back of the small hut, humming softly to herself.

I turned my nervous gaze to the women, but she supplied no information and only watched me, tapping her chin with her forefinger as though in deep thought. Suddenly, her eyes snapped back into focus and she called loudly, "Girl, teach this child our ways." She walked out of the door, mumbling as an afterthought, "And how to cook."

A small pile of clothes were roughly shoved into my arms as the girl walked past, she looked at me once before ordering sharply, "Get dressed and meet me outside."

She immediately stalked off, slamming the door closed behind her.

I let out a half choked sob before backing away from the door and hugging the garments tightly.

_What the fuck was going on?_

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	2. Magic

**Hello again! Don't get too used to these super fast posts, I've had the first three chapters written before I posted this monster. The response was . . . small. But it was there, which counts to me. You have no idea how great it is to know that you are getting a positive response about your writing. . . It feels like watching the character you are fangirling on a show, or listening to your favourite 'getting-ready-to-go-out-song'. So, yea. **

**Thank you **Sly Dalhousie**, **Skender **and** samurai89**, you make this worth it!**

**So, a jump in time! Don't worry, you won't have to sit through ten chapters of her adapting to Thedas, I'm not _thaaat_ good! But that doesn't mean it's all roses and daisies. Enjoy :)**

**_I own nothing you recognize. _**

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**Chapter Two: Magic**

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"You are doing it wrong."

"You don't think I know that?"

"Then do it again. Do it properly."

"I _will._ Just wait, I've nearly got it!"

"No. No you do not. Do not move; let me show you what you have done wrong."

Morrigan sighed and lifted herself off of the log she had been lounging on, closing her book and placing it on a large rock nearby. She sauntered over to me – something that she was trying to perfect – and leant down. I was lying on my stomach and attempting to set a snare in front of a rabbit hole. A fat and large, juicy rabbit's hole. A rabbit that was definitely going to be in tonight's dinner. She grinned down at my trap and snorted delicately, her fingers already fixing my knotted mess of wire, string and leaves.

"'There," she hummed appreciatively as she studied her work. "Tis simple enough."

"For you maybe," I muttered angrily, trying to memorize her quick finger's movements as she expertly set the snare with almost no trouble at all.

She tapped my nose gently, smirking softly, "For anyone. Now try again."

I groaned miserably. Swearing softly in Antivan – which Morrigan scolded me for - I undid it and tried again, my mouth set in determination as my eyebrows lowered and my nose scrunched up. Morrigan called it my 'focusing face', which I didn't find funny. No matter how many times I had tried to school my features into a neutral and cool expression, they always ended up in exactly the same position.

Giving up, I finally turned to her as she watched me patiently.

"Morri?" I simpered, gazing at her with my large green eyes and pouting childishly.

"What?" she snapped, obviously not wanting to leave her book for too long, or perhaps it was because I had called her by my favourite pet name.

"Can't you just turn into a rabbit and then invite this one over for tea or something? Supper solved!"

She raised an eyebrow and studied me, shaking her head slightly.

I shrugged, "It was worth a shot."

"Why don't you just turn into a rabbit yourself?" she asked slyly, placing a hand on her hip.

"Don't be stupid," I laughed, "I can't do magic! And you know it."

"You are a fool, of course you can. You simply do not try hard enough." Morrigan turned her back on me and returned to her previous position, book in hand.

Leaving me with - once again - a tangled snare to figure out by myself.

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

It had been two years since I had found myself in this strange world. Two long years of confusion as I tried to adapt to a life that was completely different from the one I had previously come from. This world, this place called Thedas, held wonders that I could not even hope to understand. Magic, was one of them. Next were the creatures, the beasts that roamed the wilds I now called home. Dragons - there were _dragons_ - and spiders the size of large dogs. The trees came to life if you pestered them, and they moved. The Korcari Wilds were never the same, always shifting, always changing. New paths were created, as were new places to discover, while outside of this sanctuary lived people in villages and cities, people who feared my new family and their gifts.

Magic was . . . beautiful, wonderful, mysterious and all around inexplicable.

Morrigan showed me her skills, bringing flames to life and turning them in small animals as they danced around my form. She had cured my fear for fire, and in turn I had taught her how to swim in the deep lake of water that lay hidden behind a thick patch of vines and foliage. We became sisters in all definitions of the word, even if I knew we were not truly related by blood. Although four years my elder, we spent our time together as she taught me the uses for Elfroot and Deathroot, how to mix a sleeping drought and a deathly poison and even how to remain hidden as a shadow among the greenery. She simply had to turn into one of her forms and she remained hidden from all but those who could sense her gift – _Templars_.

God. . . Maker, I hated those tin-can bastards. It hadn't been long after my arrival that I had had my first meeting with them, oblivious to the danger although wary of unfamiliar faces. They had approached me when I had been among a small clearing of flowers, practising my growing vocabulary of names to go with each different plant. It didn't take long for them to start questioning about Flemeth and if I knew where she was. I had simply smiled and watched them. Morrigan had warned me that people would come, and that she would rip my tongue out if I even thought of talking to them. I believed her, I still do, there was no doubt that she would have carried out her threat with hardly a shudder. Finally, they grew weary of my silence and began to drag me out of the clearing, probably to the closest Chantry.

I don't think I will ever see something as terrifying as an angry Flemeth ever again in my life.

Magic was beautiful, yes, but in powerful hands it was as much of a weapon as a gun was, more so. But to lock someone away for simply being gifted was a horrific practice, especially in a land that used _swords _and_ knives_, which were as dangerous as any magic, and infinitely more gruesome. At least magic could heal as well, a blade could only kill.

Morrigan had explained to me of the Fade, of the inhabitants it contained. Demons and benevolent spirits roamed what she explained was a twisted landscape, and her tales of possessions had terrified me. But she had also explained that it depended on the mage if they were to be possessed or not, and if a mage could resist a demons offers she – or he – would be fine. It sounded simple enough, kind of like drugs or alcohol. You could say no and resist, or you could give in and face the consequences. Of course turning into raging demon would be a lot worse than a hangover, and more permanent.

I suspected that I was in fact possessing the child I had inhabited, but Flemeth and Morrigan claimed ignorance of the entire incident and played innocent. Truthfully, my life from before was becoming nothing but a hazy memory, a scary but true fact. And this child's body, it was me now. Besides, I wasn't killing anyone which was a relief, and I definitely wasn't causing any trouble - unless it involved Morrigan, who was so delightfully funny when she was angry. Flemeth, well I stayed away from Flemeth mostly. It wasn't that I was scared of her exactly, but it was obvious to tell that she was highly disappointed about me in general. My guess was that it was about my magic - or lack of in this case. Sometimes I wondered if she wanted to get rid of me, but it was just me being ridiculous. She treated me with the same loving disdain that she showed Morrigan.

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

"At least I got it eventually," I muttered, still angry that Morrigan had taken one look at my snare and called it _'a piece of shit that belonged to an amateur hunter'_.

"Eventually? Oh all right, I suppose _two hours_ later is _eventually_," she answered sarcastically, the rabbit attached to her belt swinging slowly as she picked her way through the undergrowth.

"You could have just done it, and we'd be home by now." I kicked a stone into a bush, startling a bird into flight. Without even thinking I grabbed my sling and a pebble from my own belt, smoothly throwing it in a sharp and fluid motion. The bird didn't have a chance.

"See!" I sang triumphantly, holding the bird in my hands. "Amateur hunter my ass!"

Morrigan let out a short bark of laughter before she began walking again, a smile on her face. "But you still can't set even a simple snare, or trap, or . . ."

"I get it!" I huffed, tying the bird to my belt and hurrying after her long strides. "You don't have to rub it in any more than you already do."

We made it back to the hut in record timing, probably because of Morrigan's insistence of moving faster than my usual languid pace. Flemeth waited by the door, her face set in her usual far away expression. I swear she day-dreamed more than I did, which was a lot.

"Mother," Morrigan called out, "it seems we're having rabbit and bird stew for supper."

"With," I paused while rummaging through my pouches, "wild carrots and some leafy things that are indeed edible!"

Flemeth smiled toothily, as usual, watching us as we made our way to the door. "You certainly took your time today, girls. Leaving me alone, all day long."

"You loved it," I teased.

"Old bored woman," Morrigan whispered softly to me.

I had to stuff a fist in my mouth to prevent the laughter from escaping.

"I heard that, insolent chit," Flemeth grumbled, moving inside as we entered the warm room, helped along by a large roaring fire.

Morrigan set about preparing dinner while I managed to find the book I was reading underneath a large pile placed on the floor. It was written in Orlesian, and my head hurt just looking at it. Flemeth had made it clear that since Morrigan could speak such a large list of languages, I was to be able to do the same. It didn't matter of course that Morrigan had been learning as soon as she had uttered her first word. I could stumble over the basics of Arcanum, and perhaps a bit more of Antivan, but Orlesian was a language that made me want to rip my eyes out and feed them to the wolves. It was because of this that Flemeth had gifted me with a tome of animals and plants, my favourite subject, in the cursed language. At least there were pictures.

"I have a surprise waiting for you girls, tonight," Flemeth spoke loudly, catching Morrigan and I's attention.

"Really?" Morrigan drawled, stirring the stew – which smelt absolutely incredible after a day in the Wilds.

"It involves," Flemeth waited for a moment until we were both focused on her words, "Templars."

"The men cross-dressing in purple skirts?" I asked, smiling innocently and already knowing what Flemeth was planning. I admit, I did not agree with her methods, but with both her and Morrigan telling me how they treated mages, I tolerated their games. Barely.

"How delightful mother. What have they done this time?"

"Nothing yet," Flemeth snarled angrily, "but they are searching for us as we speak."

"Why?" I threw my hands in the air exasperatedly. "Why are they so stupid? Why do they never learn?"

"They do whatever their told, "Morrigan answered, pouring a large spoonful of the stew into a bowl and setting it on the table.

"Luckily, we are always willing to teach them correctly," Flemeth seated herself at the table, stirring the stew with a finger and licking it clean.

I left my book on the bed and made my way to a drawer, pulling out three spoons and giving one to Flemeth before fetching my own bowl of food. I sat down and blew on the thick mixture as Morrigan joined us.

"Any ideas?" She questioned curiously.

But she was ignored as Flemeth gained her far-away thoughtful look and ate her dinner.

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

Andrew wasn't some wet-behind-the-ears newbie, and he was more than confident in his skills, but the Witch of the Wilds? Surely the order had been a mistake, meant for a veteran group of Templars that had survived an encounter with a group of blood mages? Even his comrades were nervous; they'd have to be insane to not be.

The tales they had heard of the Templars that had disappeared into the Korcari Wilds, with their screams and rotten carcasses still dressed in armour the only hint of what they had gone through, were terrifying.

Was there truly any way to destroy the heathen monster?

She was a terror, and if the rumours were true, a beauty. But they had no choice, if it was the Witch of the Wilds the Chantry wanted dead; they would do their best to do just that.

What he most certainly hadn't been expecting was a young girl sitting on the branch of a large tree, her bright green eyes watching their group curiously and her long dark hair hanging loosely down her back and shoulders. When questioned if she had a family, the child smiled sadly and shook her head. Next came what was perhaps the most heart-wrenching and terrifying thing he had ever heard.

The girl told him that the woman of the wilds had stolen her from her bed not a month ago, and she was hiding from her. The child had explained of a ritual that she was the focus of, a ritual that involved ripping away a child's soul and replacing it with a demon's in return. She was scared, and hungry, and tired, and she didn't want to hide anymore.

Andrew knelt to the ground and held out his hand to the small child, who slipped down the tree cautiously and took slow steps towards him. As soon as he touched her hand and grasped it, the child had leapt into his arms, sobbing hysterically.

But he didn't see her face when the tears stopped. Her sly grin that caused some of the men to whisper prayers to the Maker. But she was only a child, they told themselves, she could do nothing dangerous to them.

Flemeth had been counting on those thoughts.

When the men had made camp, Andrew had sat with the child and asked about the Witch and where she lived. The girl, Rowan she had told him her name was, didn't know exactly, the general direction was all she could offer. It was enough; he could barely believe his luck.

As night fell and the only light was the glow from the fire, the men watched as the child sat quietly and whistled along to an unknown, unnerving tune. When questioned, she told them that her friends had taught it to her. What friends exactly, she never did say, but the tune itself was far too dark for a child, and the men grew nervous of the girl. Andrew laughed their accusations off, but even he was wary.

It was around midnight that the girl began to scream.

The men launched themselves out of their bedrolls and tried to calm the girl, to no avail. It was only after a minute of two that they noticed their Commander was not among them. When someone went to fetch him, they found Andrew cold in death, the poison already having done its work.

When the news reached the rest of the Templars, they grew silent and fearful, even the girl stopped her shrieking for a moment as they gathered around the fire. It was at that moment that the flames exploded and engulfed those sitting closest, they screamed as they burned, the lucky ones already dead from the explosion.

The rest grabbed their weapons and readied themselves; fearing for their lives. They watched the trees silently, praying that they would make it through the night.

As if summoned, Flemeth revealed herself to them. "Hello, boys," she purred, swaying her hips as she walked over the young child. No one dared try and stop her.

"Thank you for finding her for me," she laughed and placed a hand of the child's shoulder. "Children, what would we do without them, yes?"

"Witch," a brave man spat at the ground, "we have been ordered to bring you back, dead or alive."

Flemeth placed a finger under her chin and thought for a moment, before facing the man, "What if I say no?"

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

The fight had been gruesome and bloody, most of the Templars having been frozen and smashed into little bits, and the others were faced with the destructive force of lightning and a spell descriptively called '_Walking Bomb_'. Some of the lucky ones had died instantly, their heads crushed from the force of a stone projectile.

The violent display had left me feeling sick, my stomach heaving as I attempted to hold in my supper. Morrigan and Flemeth were unfazed as usual, simply complaining about the blood that decorated their clothes.

_Was it really fair when done like this?_

I had to put a halt to those certain thoughts before I began to question my easy, although reluctant, acceptance of the game Flemeth played. But it was done, and the Templars would be left to the wilds and the creatures that lived in them, such was how things worked.

As I walked through the corpses, I had the sudden urge to _get out_ and _run_. I cast a look around my surroundings, and it was only because of that that I saw the Templar rise from the ground and launch himself at me, a crazed look of pain in his eyes and a knife in his hand. As though in slow motion, the knife fell towards me and I screamed in fear.

It was in that moment that the man fell to his knees, dropping the knife to clutch at his head, a grating shriek of pain coming from his mouth. Another moment later and he was dead, blood seeping from his nose.

I turned to a shocked Morrigan and Flemeth, my eyes widened in fear.

"Thank you," I gasped.

Morrigan simply shook her head and Flemeth grinned widely. "That wasn't us girl, that was _you_."

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	3. She's Long Gone

******Here you are, just because I'm feeling extra warm and fuzzy after my long shower.**

**A big thank you to **Skender, katherineG93 **and** She Dicator **(who has a very interesting story list I want to check out).**

**So carry on and read!**

**I own nothing you recognize. **

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**Chapter Three: She's Long Gone**

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I think if there was one thing I missed from my life before, it would be the music. Electric and acoustic guitars, amazing voices, lyrics, drums and bass. If I could bring something to Thedas from my apartment, it would be my iPod. And the solar charger I had paid hundreds for, all for a camping trip that never happened. Maker, I missed the sound of my favourite band and the relaxed feeling that their music always brought me, I missed dancing at live concerts and the floating feeling that it gave me. But then again, I still could experience it all in my dreams.

The fade was my own little haven, where I could re-live things that I hadn't forgotten. My mother. . . I could barely remember the colour of her eyes let alone what her voice sounded like. But my latest music concert, where I had seen a band called 'The Black Keys', I could remember it as clear as day - so I lived it in my dreams again and again, the same blank faced people dancing with me every time. Sometimes I would replace them with other bands I'd never seen before, but loved their music. The stage would remain blurry, but the music would pour out of the speakers as though it was real, and I'd wake up the next morning with my feet aching as though it had really happened.

If it wasn't a concert, it would be my apartment as my last memory of it. I'd see some of my favourite TV shows or movies, or relax and do nothing. And, rarely, I'd go to the racing track. I'd mostly watch old races from the stands; I wouldn't be able to drive myself in case I thought of my accident. I couldn't control things - as much as I wanted to - and didn't particularly want to go through my death again.

Tomorrow I would be turning fourteen, again. Morrigan and Flemeth didn't celebrate . . . well, anything, so my birthday wouldn't be any different than just another ordinary day. Except this time, I could throw a ball of fire twice my size and freeze something solid with only a little effort. I could summon lightning from my fingers and give someone a painful headache. If that wasn't amazing enough, I could also turn into a tiny fluffy owl and a wolf pup. Morrigan laughed at my small and limited forms, but I was too excited to care.

But there was going to be something else different about my birthday tomorrow, Morrigan wouldn't be there.

As she grew older, Morrigan had started to leave the Korcari Wilds to explore the surrounding villages. Flemeth and her had argued for days before she had finally packed a small bag and left, only returning a week later with large eyes and new stories to tell me. They hadn't talked for months after that, but eventually Flemeth accepted it and Morrigan began to disappear more often than not, always returning still hungry for more. I wanted to go with her, but she had refused my begging and continued to travel alone. Since I no longer had her to help me with my studies and Flemeth, I began to miss her less and less as I became more independent, solving problems by myself and practising my magic alone in the fields we used to meet in. Flemeth left me to my own devices and became even more shut-in than usual, spending most of her time writing in her Grimoire.

That night, I spent my time in the fade celebrating what had been my twenty-second birthday before I had arrived here. My family had flown down from Canada to South Africa, wanting to spend time in the sun rather than snow. After they had left to go out to dinner, I had gone out to party at a local club. I don't think I'd ever had such a great time for ages, and the gift of money from my mom had sweetened it even more.

It was a happy memory, a good one, and even though every ones faces were blurred in my dream, it still felt like I was with my friends and family.

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

I woke up in the loft of the small hut with a large smile on my face. Flemeth was still sleeping and the sun hadn't even risen, but despite that I got dressed quickly in warm clothes and fur lined boots. My hood came as well and I threw it over my shoulders with practiced ease. I tied my belt around my waist and gently closed the door behind me, moving quickly. One thing I had discovered while living in this strange world was that the sunrises were absolutely gorgeous, and it wasn't often that I was awake early enough to see them.

I made my way through the trees quietly, enjoying the early morning singing from the birds and the cool air before the sun rose and heated everything up. Today was my day, and hunting would be the last thing on my mind. I ambled through the undergrowth, eating nuts and berries as I went. My goal was a large hill that overlooked most of the wilds, and on a clear day you could see the remains of Ostagar. I almost wished I had a camera in order to take photos.

I finally reached the top of the hill, breathing heavily from the steep climb. As though it was waiting for me, the sun finally broke from the horizon and rays of light spread across the land, my land. Ostagar stuck out, a ruin of pink and orange stone in the morning light.

Once, I probably would have been terrified to be alone in the middle of a dense forest, but now I welcomed the silence and peace that came with the solitude of the wilderness. I held no fear of the beasts that roamed it, nor did they fear me, and we simply co-existed without bothering each other. The wolf pack I had studied in order to gain their shape had politely ignored me as I watched them, keeping their distance as long as I kept my own. When I had padded into their clearing as a wolf pup for the first time, they had almost killed me before their Alpha stopped them from attacking. He had recognized my scent, and as I had posed no threat they welcomed me into their den so that I could meet the entire pack for the first time. Even though I could not understand them as well as I wished, I made do using the signals I had observed and noticed.

I was kicked out soon after.

But the experience had changed me, and I gained a new respect for the predators that roamed the Wilds freely. Morrigan had noticed it immediately, and congratulated me on my achievement - after teasing me once again about the size I was as a vicious wolf though.

I wondered momentarily if Morrigan remembered what today even was; it had after all been exactly four years since I had been tossed into their world. I had changed greatly, and I could no longer bring myself to wonder if there was a way I could go back. Home was a small hut that smelled of moss and dirt, home was the sarcastic remarks that Morrigan never failed to greet me with, home was an old woman who cackled rather than laughed and could call a lie no matter how well you told it. Home was here.

_Perhaps this year Flemeth will finally tell me how I got here in the first place._

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

It happened so suddenly that I barely had a chance to scream for help.

The Templars had emerged from the trees like ghosts, immediately sending a Holy Smite my way before I could finish uttering the words for a fireball. Rough cloth was stuffed into my mouth and coarse rope was used to bind my hands and feet. I had struggled, but I was still a small and weak child. They were grown men trained to ignore the fact that I was young; only that at any moment I could turn into an abomination and rip them all apart with my bare hands.

It was tempting, but I wasn't that stupid.

It was then that they attached a humming metal collar around my neck, cutting off my connection to the fade. I was humiliated, and angry. Furious at myself for not paying more attention to the sounds of the forest, the sounds that could have immediately warned me of large lumbering men cased in armour, and furious that Morrigan had left me alone and allowed it to happen in the first place. If she had been here at this exact moment, they would all be dead.

Maker, Flemeth was going to be pissed when she found out.

I tried to settle comfortably in the cage they had thrown me in, wondering how she would handle this particular abduction. Would she play with them? Or steal me in the night? When one of the anonymous Templars came to ask me if I wanted water, I only smiled evilly at him, my eyes sparkling mischievously. They didn't offer me anything after that, and I could only watch hungrily as they feasted on a wild boar they had caught.

Day turned to afternoon, and afternoon turned to night, and still I waited for Flemeth's rescue. What was her plan? Was this a test for my abilities? Surely she wouldn't have let them get this far into the Wilds without some sort of ulterior reason? It had to be that, all I needed was to think. But with no magic, escaping would be difficult. They had taken precautions with the cage and kept it locked at all times.

_Except when I go and do my business in the bushes, then they would have to let me out._

It would have to done in moments, and without magic I would have to rely on the skills I had learnt in my first two years. But how? The Templar would have to be out of his armour, so after supper when everyone is getting ready for bed. Without a protective layer, I could throw a kick below the belt and be out of there before he would even be able to cry out. It was simple, and so many things could go wrong, but it was all I had. Hopefully Flemeth would be proud.

I had to do it soon, while I still had all of my strength. After a few days without food however. . . I didn't want to think about my chances then.

After the Templars had finished supper, a few remained to wash up while the rest retired for the night. I finally got a glimpse of my captors, and they didn't seem very troubling. Most were still young - perhaps it was their first hunt? – while the older ones seemed tired and slightly lyrium addled. The only dangerous threat was a hard faced woman who seemed to be continuously watching me with cold piercing eyes.

I banged my bound fists on the bars of the cage, catching the attention of a few of the men. They watched me momentarily before returning to their conversations. I almost screamed at them in frustration, but the gag made such things difficult. Finally, a young man approached me warily, his eyes narrowed. He slowly reached his hand up to my mouth and removed the gag quickly.

"What do you want, apostate?" he asked, his fists clenched in what I gleefully noted was terror.

"I need to _go_!" I whined childishly. "Really, _really_ badly!"

"Can't you _hold_ it?" he begged. "It's cold and dark."

"Well aren't I so sorry, I'll ask my bladder to cease immediately," I muttered sarcastically.

He looked around the camp for help, but all of the other Templars were conveniently avoiding his eye. Sighing, he told me to wait for just a little bit longer while he got the key from the hard-faced woman. At least it didn't seem like she would be taking me, which would make it a bit difficult to create a suitable distraction. He appeared again a few minutes later, keys in hand and a stubborn gleam in his eyes. He unlocked and swung the cage door open, grabbing my arm and pulling me outside and into a small patch of mud. He quickly untied my hands and feet.

"What a _gentleman_," I hissed, wrenching my arm from his grasp and beginning to walk towards the nearest bush.

He hurried after me, "Not so fast! I have to keep an eye on you."

"While I'm busy?" I asked, disgusted. "Ever heard of something called privacy? Pervert."

He glared at me and opened his mouth to complain no doubt, but I held a finger up to him and shook my head.

"As interesting as that Chantry dribble is, I'm really not interested in being converted. Try it on a whore; she might even listen if you pay her enough."

He spluttered at me, enraged at my words. I simply smiled and shook my head, disappearing behind the bush. He followed, a hand held over his eyes and his mouth pinched into a thin line.

"Just . . . hurry up," he snapped sharply.

"Fine!"

I waited a moment before tip-toeing towards his motionless form. It was like watching a statue; he didn't even look like he was breathing. I smiled to myself and mentally apologised to him. One kick and a Templar mewing like a kitten on the floor later, I was sprinting through the trees as though my life depended on it. The shouts of fury echoed around me as the sounds of a lot of people giving chase came behind me. But I was fast and small, and I knew the Wilds like the back of my hand. There was no way they would even have a chance of catching me. All I needed was a place to hide for a while; even I couldn't run all the way back to the hut, it would be like leading bees to honey.

The collar around my neck began to glow and my neck began to tingle uncomfortably. I tried to ignore it, but it soon became unbearable. Gasping for breath, I clawed at the contraption, my fingers singing as they touched the burning metal. Falling to my knees, I began to choke as my skin itched and burned as though a thousand needles were being repeatedly plunged into it, my fingers unable to get rid of the collar no matter how hard I tugged and pulled.

_What is this thing?_

"Newest Tranquil design," the female Templar walked up towards my kneeled form, smirking arrogantly as she answered my unspoken question. "Affective, isn't it?"

"_Make it stop_!" I snarled at her, still trying to pull it off.

"I can't, not until you go back to the camp. Then you will be closer to its control stone, and it will stop," she laughed cruelly, sending a sharp kick at my side.

I hissed and curled into a protective ball as she rained blows upon me, screaming abuse as she slashed at my unprotected body. The rest of the Templars watched in silence until she finally stretched and wiped away the sweat that had formed on her brow.

"Take her back, and don't let her out of the cage again. She is not human; do not let her appearance fool you. This mage is as innocent as any demon."

As a Templar gently picked me up, I turned my gaze towards the stars and saw a grey and black owl sitting on a branch, its golden eyes watching me as I was carried away, back to my prison.

_Help me. . ._

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******Review and you get hot chocolate, because where I am it's winter and I'm losing my fingers to frostbite.**


	4. Dog Days are Over

**Sorry for the long wait! But I've just finished exams and Term 2. . . *phew*! I rather like how this chapter came out, and writing dialogue for Morri and Rowan is so much fun for me.**

**A big thank you to: **_She Dictator, Tanddoris, melgonzo, Fan123, susyjohn, TheDawgg, Lil' Bunny Lynn-Lynn, DarkStorm00, Skender, nannals, raynecousland, Nanobitez, GrimmyRayne and May-kin Malfoy!_

**Now that, is a long list! Oh wow, now that it's all there my stomach is going all fluttery! With no further ado, enjoy Chapter 4!**

_**I own nothing you recognize.**_

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**Chapter Four: Dog Days Are Over**

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_Whore._

"Get it into the chantry, and lock it up -"

_Bitch._

"Take all precautions –"

_Witch._

"Ignore all of its words and trickery. Do not underestimate it; this is no innocent little girl."

Insulting my newest most hated Templar was an amusing practice, if I did it silently. I had said it to her face once and she cruelly threw the control stone into the bushes and didn't tell anyone. Not until I was practically sobbing for forgiveness did she send someone to find it. It took three whole hours before he returned, triumphantly holding the glowing stone and apologising for the amount of time it took to find it. And not even to me. It was disgusting, they fawned for her attention and praise, and if they had tails they would probably have started to wag if she ordered them to kill themselves.

Sadly, my unique pool of insults had run dry, and I had been forced to reuse many of them. If was times like these that I desperately wished Morrigan was around to supply me with some new ones. Alas, I had seen nothing of her or Flemeth, and I wasn't hoping to. When Flemeth made no move to help me after my first failed escape attempt, I had given up on any form of rescue. And, because of my spectacular stunt, my merry group of torturers had decided that under no circumstances was I to be allowed out of my cage, unless I had at least four of them watching me with their perverted gazes.

It figures that I tried to leave the safety of my little prison as little as was possible.

After a number of days travelling through the Wilds, we had finally reached the small village of Lothering. I didn't know a jaw could drop so low until the villagers got a first-hand view of me. I must've looked quite the sight, probably like a feral child raised by wolves. The collar didn't help matters much. And then, as though they had nothing better to do, they followed us until we reached the Chantry's front door. Even then, with the Templars shooing them away, some managed to slip through and settled themselves in the shadows for the show.

And old woman with a face shrunken up like a prune approached us, her nose held high in the air and her lips pursed. "What is this, Knight Captain Brandle?"

The Prig bowed so low I was surprised her face didn't touch the floor. "An apostate, Holy Mother, we found it in the Wilds during our hunt for the Witch that lives there."

"It?" I questioned aloud, "If you really are unsure on my gender, you're welcome to ask any of your lecherous men-in-waiting. They've all had a good look."

The Prig's face whipped towards me faster than I believed possible, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. I simply stuck out my tongue. There was only one place they would be taking me, and it was either that or a death by hanging. Call me dramatic but I preferred death. What was a life stuck in a tower, with no windows looking out to the world around? With no way to fly free like a bird, or to run through fields of long Spring grass? No life that I wanted, that was for sure.

"Silence, heathen!" the old woman snapped, her face become even more prune-like than before. It reminded me of the time I had stuck a piece of lemon into Morrigan's mouth.

"If you want my silence, then you'll have to rip out my tongue," I hissed back, spitting onto the Chantry floor.

"Don't tempt me," the Prig warned, her lips curling into an evil smirk.

After one delicate sniff, and a list of verses recited from the Chant that was probably supposed to get rid of any demons inhabiting me, I was thrown into a larger cage. Not long after in which that I had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over my head. Apparently the smell was annoying the religious sheep. I didn't care a bit and refused to use the soap I had been provided with, even though it was extremely tempting. Even I could tell that I smelt rather bad. After three more hours of the Chant being spewed into my face, I was too bored to even throw any insults towards the brothers and sisters. They decided to take this as a fact that I had been listening, and was perhaps becoming more eligible for the Circle rather than the gallows.

I decided not to correct them. After what I had been through I just wanted a pair of clean clothes, a good stew and a book to cuddle down with. So instead, I brought my hands together in "_prayer" _and practiced my vocabulary for different languages. Mostly the curses and insults, although there were a few condescending remarks and some sarcasm mixed in. Luckily for me, no one else in the Chantry could speak, or fully understand, what I was saying. Instead of first finding out, they applauded my knowledge. I simply laughed at their stupidity; they actually thought they were getting through to me. It would take a bit more than some pretty verses to soften my views.

After nightfall, I was blessed with silence as everyone sane retreated towards their warm beds. It allowed me a chance to think things over, such as was it really better to die than live in a prison for the rest of my life? Sadly, I rather enjoyed life, and even though it would be a larger cage than usual, I bet the library would be simply massive. In fact, the amount of books in the Circle could probably keep me occupied after the excitement of new people would inevitably wear off. And, there was the fact that I would be open to a large number of new spells and incantations, even different skills. Morrigan would probably disown me if she ever heard me say it, but staying in the Circle for a few years could be interesting. After that however, I think I'd rather travel around for a bit. Surely it wouldn't take much effort to escape? In fact, I could probably decide on a whim to leave and fly out of a window. Simple.

I settled down for the night, smiling at the ingenuity of my plan. It was practically flawless.

"Really, Rowan?" a familiar voice rang out from the corner of the room. "Have you given up already?"

I gasped in delight and threw myself at the bars, searching the darkness. "Morrigan?"

"No, it's the Revered Mother," she sniggered, stepping out into the beam of moonlight that came from an open window. "Who do you think?"

All thoughts of enjoying the Circle for a time flew out of the window as I gleefully thought of the old Prune's and the Prig's faces when they woke up and found me gone. I almost wished I could stay to see it; perhaps I could hide in the rafters and watch from above as a bird.

"Thank the Gods it's you. Listen, you have to help get me out of here, but the Prig, Templar, who took me has this stone that controls this collar thing . . ."

Morrigan held up a finger and rolled her eyes, "Breath, sister, lest you choke and die on your chatter."

I shut my mouth and smiled sheepishly, instead taking the time to examine Morrigan's face. Her time out of the Wilds hadn't changed her much, she still had the feral glint in her eyes, and her cheekbones protruded as though she'd never seen a good meal. All lies of course, she could eat as much as she desired and never gained an inch of weight. Her hair shone softly and hung loosely around her shoulders, which was unusual to say the least. Normally she would tie it up in some intricate bun to keep it out of her eyes. I was glad to see her still wearing her Wild's garb underneath her thick black cloak.

"So," she smirked lazily, "what is this about a collar?"

"Don't lie," I grumbled, "you noticed it as soon as you saw me. Even Flemeth would have noticed it and I'm not even sure she's completely awake half the time."

"Like when she almost washed her hands in the water boiling over the fire?" Morrigan chuckled, amused. "I still think you should not have stopped her. Probably would have taught her a lesson she would never forget."

"It _would_ have been funny," I noted, "But that's not the point. So, can you help me or do I have to do it myself?"

"From inside a cage? Now that could be interesting to watch, I'm tempted to just leave you be and see what your brilliant mind comes up with."

"Hilarious, Morri. But in all seriousness . . .?" I pouted up at her.

She stretched towards the ceiling, sighing contentedly as her bones clicked. "Very well, t'is no trouble for me. Remain patient; I will be back before you even know I am gone."

I snorted, "I highly doubt that. You're good, sister, but not _that_ good."

She simply winked before glowing gold and slipping off into the shadows as a pure black cat with shining eyes.

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

I waited. The hours slowly dragged by and finally the sun climbed into the sky, beams of morning light spilling into the Chantry.

Morrigan hadn't returned.

I was going absolutely crazy with worry. Had they caught her? Impossible, Morrigan never got caught. But still . . . She would have come for me. There was no doubt about it. Something must have stopped her, or prevented her from reaching the stone. They had her, there was no other explanation. They would taunt me with her, perhaps brag about their achievement. But how could they have. . .? It was _Morrigan_, there was no way that she could have been captured, but then where was she?

_She would never leave me to their mercy._

"Good morning, Witch," the Prig greeted me, her face set into a displeased frown.

I glared up at her silently. Surely it wouldn't take long; there was no way that she would be able to withhold her nightly achievement from me. But nothing came. She simply walked away. There was no bragging, no _'it's all over for you' _or _'silly little Witch, you can't escape'_. She just _walked away!_

And life moved on.

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

"Are you exited?"

"For what, Templar?" I snarled. "For a life in a cage with no escape?"

The man paused momentarily, as though thinking over his words, "No, that's not what I meant."

"Then," I hissed angrily, "pray tell me what it is that you meant?"

"Are you happy that you are going to a place where you are accepted?"

I turned my face to the side; so that he couldn't see my eyes leak traitorous tears against my will. "I had that already, Templar. You took me away from it in a small cage."

"I think I understand why you hate us so much then."

I laughed cruelly, "No, you really don't. The hatred I feel towards you is unexplainable. You have taken me away from my family that protected and cared for me."

"Where are they now?" he asked kindly.

"Do not take me for an idiot."

We walked in silence after that, and I was grateful for it. It allowed me a chance to wrap my head around what had happened.

_Morrigan had abandoned me._

There had been no great unveiling of my attempt to escape, no Morrigan in chains and definitely no mentions of a Witch lurking around the Chantry. She had left me to them, with no hopes of escape. And for that I hated her. Did she not care for me as I cared for her? Sisters were supposed to look out for each other.

_We aren't sisters, not really._

It didn't make things any easier. We had grown up together for the past four years, she had taught me magic. How could all of that be forgotten in one night? I was so sure, so absolutely certain that I was going to escape with her. We would have returned home victorious, trading Templar stories and remarks on how stupid they were. Instead, here I was marching towards the Circle. My new home.

No, not really, home was a small hut that smelled of moss and dirt, home was the sarcastic remarks that Morrigan never failed to greet me with, home was an old woman who cackled rather than laughed and could call a lie no matter how well you told it. Home was the Wilds, and I would see it again one day.

"We're here."

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**Please oh please oh please REVIEW! Pretty please? *offers cookies***


	5. Bad Reputation

******Oh hello there! *dodges bricks***

**It's been a while, and for that I apologize. But life has been absolutely crazy, and my muse went on holiday for a while. But a few days ago, I sat down and started to write.**

**A big thank you to the continuous support:** _lyps, melgonzo, Holstiener, Lady of the Drow, Botani Raver, ThorShared, HowYouRemindMe, XXThe wish GranterXX, stephaniekit, She Dictator, , Gavoon, Casab1ana, rappunzell, Sylanc, Ynnah, Sin Piedad, the goat of power, IDAbyss, Skender, ToLazyForAName and Anon!_

**So sorry if anyone has been left out!**

**_I do not own Bioware._  
**

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**Chapter Five: Bad Reputation**

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A small tongue flicked across her lips, her lashes shivering slightly over her eyes as they drank everything they saw. The slide of skin over skin as she shifted her legs, the rustle of moving silk. She breathed deeply, before letting out a loud sigh of pleasure.

"Oh _Maker_," I purred softly, my mouth curling into a small smirk.

Nothing. He barely moved.

I pouted, annoyed. Abandoning my pretence of reading, I tossed the book across the table and leant back into the chair, stretching my arms above my head. The satisfying release of pressured bones clicking made me smile happily. It was the simple things that did it these days, almost anything could make me feel good.

Except for thoughts on that conniving daughter and her she-witch mother. Oh yes, one day when I escaped from this horrific place many of the mages called home, I would return to the wilds and pluck their eyes out in the form of a Raven.

It had been five years since I had been abandoned by my 'loving' family, five long years spent planning escape attempts that always had flaws, watching mage after mage go through their Harrowing – some making it, others, however, never had a chance -, studying and writing tests on subjects I already knew while forcing myself to preform averagely. Stay low, stay unnoticed, and stay alive. But, I couldn't help but harass the local fauna.

My eyes raked across the Templar standing by the corner of the room, young and new. Fresh meat. So far, my 'subtle' advances hadn't seemed to procure an affect. The poor boy hadn't moved, and I could almost smell the fear radiating off him in waves. Oh, he had probably been warned about me, but the warnings _never _lived up to the experience, as I had been told many times. But he was so delectably ripe for the picking; all I had to do was reach up and grab him.

"So," I started, still smiling, "are you alive or what? Because I am ready to come and poke you, just in case."

Still nothing, not even a twitch.

I slipped out of my chair and trailed my fingers across the table I had been seated at, walking towards his direction while my eyes remained on the bookshelves filled with ancient texts. I barely took notice of the names along the bindings, instead keeping my full attention indirectly focused to the Templar. Finally reaching the end of the table, I turned my back towards him and flicked through a random book, stacked precariously on a teetering pile.

"Standing all day; in that one, single position. You must be feeling so-" I paused for a moment, a cheeky grin tugging at my lips, "-stiff."

It was soft, unheard to all but the most feral of ears - which I luckily had a convenient pair of. The boy had _gulped_. What a brilliant turn of events that now faced me. I turned around, lifting myself onto the table and crossing my ankles gracefully, smoothing out the purple-blue robes slowly. I stared at him, unmerciful as I undressed him with my eyes. He trembled. A triumphant smirk spread across my face, my eyelashes lowered.

"Anything wrong, Ser Templar?" I asked innocently, my mouth not changing from its wicked and sly grin. _The boy had even closed his eyes._

"Miss Aldonis, I would appreciate it if you remained from traumatising my new recruits before they have experienced enough to handle you," a gruff, no nonsense voice called from the arched opening leading out of the library."

I rolled my eyes and slipped off the table, blowing a kiss towards the boy and a quick wink. "Oh, Greggy," I whined playfully, "it's just so . . . easy."

"Knight Commander Greagoir, Miss Aldonis, I will not tolerate your little pet name for me." He laid a gauntleted hand on my shoulder and steered me away from the library and the Templar boy.

"I know you secretly love it, Greggy dearest," I mocked, delighted with the new form of entertainment. The Knight Commander had his limits, but if I could keep it light hearted with no mention of seduction with Blood Magic, he tolerated my games. Barely.

The man simply looked down at me, an eyebrow raised. It remained like this until I was thoroughly chided through his sharp gaze. "Fine," I muttered, sniffing lightly, "what is ever so important that it had to interrupt my afternoon studies?"

"You never study," Greagoir commented offhandedly, looking straight ahead and preventing me from walking into walls as I retreated into my thoughts.

"It's the thought that counts."

"Irving wants to see you. He thinks you may know something about the latest escape."

I grinned, snapping back into attention, "Anders did it? Again?" I cheered silently, the Cat Boy had balls: it was his sixth time of successfully escaping. As soon as I was Harrowed I planned to set the next record.

"Not for long," Greagoir smiled grimly, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"Oh Gods, please don't Tranquilize him," I groaned, "he's the most exciting thing in this place!"

"It's tempting," Greagoir muttered, knocking sharply on the First Enchanter's solid wooden door, the metal making a solid thud.

"Enter!" the elderly voice of the First Enchanter summoned. His office was filled with large tomes and papers were scattered across his desk and on every available seating space, making it impossible to sit down even when offered the chance. In his elderly but stable hands, a china teacup rested, decorated with small detailed roses. His fingers hugged the warmth as he gazed at me with twinkling, knowing eyes. A name always seemed to spring to mind when I saw him, a name from my previous life: 'Father Christmas'. What a title.

"Miss Aldonis, always an absolute pleasure, my dear."

"The pleasure is all mine, Old Man," I nodded absentmindedly, already glued to the titles of books in his personal shelves; he always stole the good stuff. '_Blood Magic Through the Ages'_, '_The Art of Blood'_, _'Known Maleficar'_. . . . "Somebody's been naughty," she whispered softly, her fingers stroking the dusted golden print. With a sharp tug, she pulled out one of the books and flicked through it. "This is some terrifying light reading, Old Man."

Before she could go further, the book was snatched from her hands and shut, with The First Enchanter slipping it back into its rightful place. "Not for you, Miss Aldonis," he chuckled softly, "we wouldn't be able to keep up with your mischief otherwise."

"Irving," Greagoir's voice broke through the relaxed atmosphere, his tone filled with warning.

"Yes, yes," Irving responded, turning back to his desk while summoning me with a gesture of his hand.

"Well," I started, "I don't know anything. Not about his escape anyway, but if you want to know other things. . ." I winked cheerily, "Then I'm your girl."

"That isn't why you're here."

My smile flipped as I frowned darkly at Greagoir. "Then why in Thedas am I standing in this office, with both of you looking at me as though my entire family has been slaughtered? I can assure you, it would be a happy occasion for everyone who knows them."

"Well, since you bought it up," Irving smiled softly, "we do want to speak about your family."

I crossed my arm and glared at both of them, "What about them?"

"Well, my dear, we do know that they lived in the Korcari Wilds, where the Templars found you. Is this correct?"

"As far as I know," I responded carefully.

"Well, some of the children have commented on how you say you were raised by 'Flemeth', the Witch of the Wilds. We were hoping-"

"Where are they, Miss Aldonis?" Greagoir interrupted coldly.

"I don't know."

"You 'don't know', or you simply do not wish to tell us?"

My eyes settled on Greagoir's, sending all of my defiance in his direction. I may have hated Morrigan and Flemeth, but I was no snitch. Besides, Flemeth would probably return from the dead and kill me in my sleep. "Even if I did know, you'd never find them."

"Give us a chance," the Knight Commander stared right back at me, his gaze holding mine steady and without emotion.

I paused for a moment, tearing my eyes towards the ground. Feeling Greagoir's smugness over winning, I swore colourfully in Antivan. The seconds passed as they waited for me to say something, anything. Finally, I spat out my last few words on the subject, "There isn't a chance in hell that I would help you. Their heads are mine, and mine alone."

Irving nodded, accepting, but Greagoir's hands clenched into gauntleted fists. I turned my back on them and stalked out of the office, but before I could leave from the door, Irving's words rang out through his office, piercing me with an acute feeling of absolute terror.

"Prepare yourself for tonight, my dear; you will not get much sleep."

They were preparing for my Harrowing.

**\o/o\o/o\o/**

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I responded, my eyes closed as I rested my cheek on a page of a large book, covered with scattered parchments of notes on fire spells.

"You're actually studying. Something _has_ to be wrong."

"It's nothing," I repeated, raising my head and blinking heavily at the petite elf who was watching me, her eye-brow raised. Unfortunately, a single page had stuck to my cheek and remained there until the elf's delicate fingers plucked it off.

She studied it momentarily before snorting quietly, "We did this work a few months back, why the sudden interest?"

"Enough Surana, if I haven't told yet it's because I_ don't want you to know._"

Neria Surana narrowed her eyes and watched me for a few moments. Finally opening her mouth, she threatened, "If there's a surprise test coming up and you've said nothing - I will freeze you."

"It's not a test," I assured her, "not one that you'll be taking anytime soon at least."

It took her a while, but eventually her face twisted slightly into a recognizable emotion. Jealousy. "Well then," she muttered coldly, "that's just brilliant. You can go and join Amell in the secret mage club while I stay here, stuck with Jowan."

"He's not that bad," I lied easily, scanning the book one last time before slamming it closed. In fact, I hated the snivelling excuse of a man. He was twenty-six years old and still he hadn't been summoned. They might as well make him Tranquil to get it over and done with. They would have, if not for a certain teacher's pet. The First Enchanters very own ex-apprentice, Solona Amell. She adored the boy, looked after him even when she slept on a different floor of the tower. It would have been easy to abandon him; she could have made up excuses on how busy she was. Instead she still let him follow her around. Even with all that, the clueless fool had no idea.

Pathetic.

The sun was setting through the stained window, covering the area I was sitting in with a warm and hopeful glow. I stared through the rippled glass longingly, my body almost begging to leap through the small opening and fly away, never to return. I hadn't meant to stay this long, but I didn't expect the security to be so extreme either. I hadn't even set a foot outside in years, and pictures in books were no match for the real thing. Some of the mages who had been here since they were tiny babies had never even seen the ocean, or been in a grove of trees. They had never swum in a river or climbed a mountain, and when I had tried to explain the absolutely breath-taking feeling of _freedom_, they had shaken their heads and turned their noses back into their books.

_They thought they had everything in this tower._

The cruel facades of the lives they all lived were terrifying, and I couldn't think of any reason why someone would willingly go through with it. And yet, here they all were thriving without knowing any better, all the while thinking they knew everything. I loved to prove them wrong, to preform magic secretly to the young apprentices, magic they had never even heard of before let alone learned. I gave the Enchanters headaches, stole food from the kitchens in the form of a stray dog and hid things where no one would ever find them. It was horrifically satisfying to get through another escapade without getting caught, preforming magic in front of Templars who could never quite tell where it was coming from.

The First Enchanter knew. He had eyes in the tower walls, and spies that merged among us. Anything you said, whispered, belched or sang; he already knew it before anyone else did. But despite this, nothing had been said. No warnings, no hints or letters or even a follower. He left me alone, and for that I would be eternally grateful to him. But then again, maybe the Old Man knew the amount of damage I could cause if someone ever tried to stop me.

* * *

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